What Could Have Been
by MargretKelley
Summary: When Harry was 14, Voldemort chose to use another wizards blood. Now the Malfoy's and the Weasley's must deal with the ramifications.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Wormtail gathered up his few belongings and the belongings of the Dark Lord. After finally escaping his rat form, he had fled to Albania in search of his master. While he had been living with wizards as a rat, he had heard mostly that the Dark Lord had been killed as he had attempted to kill a baby. He had known that that was not possible as he knew the Dark Lord took too many precautions to ensure that he could not be killed, although he had no idea what these precautions might be. He had waited for 13 years, disguised as a pet rat waiting, waiting, for someone to whisper any useful information. He had finally heard that the Dark Lord was not dead, but not truly alive either, and had last been seen in Albania. After several weeks of searching the forests, he had finally located his old master and was once more a faithful servant.

One night, while having a few drinks in the local inn, he had run into an old schoolmate, Bertha Jorkins. After talking for a bit he had learned that she was working for the Ministry of Magic and was on holiday visiting some relatives in Albania. She had been quite surprised to see him, since he was supposed to be dead after all. She had remained as much of a gossip as he remembered from his school days, so while that had been useful in bringing her to the Dark Lord, it was necessary to kill her. The risk of her informing everyone she came across that Peter Pettigrew was not dead but very much so alive and running around Albania with a pathetic wretch claiming to be Lord Voldemort was far too great for any other consideration.

Before killing her, the Dark Lord had been quite harsh but discovered some very _interesting_ information. Barty Crouch Jr. had gone to Azkaban for refusing to stop pledging allegiance to him but at his mother's insistence had been snuck out and had been living with his father, placed under the Imperious curse and under an invisibility cloak. From what she gathered, given his father's extreme security measures on him, he was not in the least repentant and was very much a loyal servant. The Quidditch World Cup would be held in England this summer and shortly thereafter, the Triwizard Tournament would be held for the first time in centuries, hosted at Hogwarts.

Armed with this information, the Dark Lord had decided that it was now time to act. He had been neither dead nor alive for the past twelve years, and while he was willing to quietly wait for decades if need be, he had to admit that he was getting very frustrated with his situation. He knew of an ancient dark ritual that would give him a body once more and so he had informed Wormtail that they needed to visit Little Hangleton in England.

Wormtail was currently finishing the necessary preparations to move to Little Hangleton for several weeks. He knew it was unlikely that they would return the Albanian forest they had been hiding in and that any traces of their stay would need to be completely obliterated. He was still puzzled as to why the Dark Lord had chosen this particular Albanian forest to hide in for so many years: surely there many more forests just as secluded as this one closer to his followers?

He finished packing their few belongings into a small enchanted bag, mostly potion ingredients for the nasty potion he had brewing from the Dark Lord's careful instructions that was allowing him to regain a very crude, childish body once again. He had snuck off into the town earlier, disguised, and stolen some food from a local Muggle shop. He placed some charms on this food to ensure that it would not spoil in the next few days, then shrunk all the remaining items to fit into the small bag. After making sure that everything was in the bag he charmed it to be feather light and shrugged it onto his back.

He once again questioned why, why his master had decided to hide in this horrid forest so far from his followers. After selecting a rock from the forest floor, he cast the complex spells on it to take them to Little Hangleton in twenty minutes. Once completed, he walked over to rouse his sleeping master.

"My Lord? The preparations are complete," squeaked Wormtail as he bent over the small curled form of the once formidable Dark Lord. He touched his shoulder gently to wake him, flinching as he touched the scabbed shoulder.

"I shall summon Nagini and we shall be on our way," said the Dark Lord in his high, cold voice. Following this, he began hissing something completely unintelligible to Wormtail, presumably calling Nagini back to the camp site so they could depart. He never ceased to be amazed that despite having the small, pitiful, disgusting body he had still retained his voice from twelve years ago.

"M-m-my Lord," stuttered Wormtail, "I have set the portkey to leave in twenty minutes." Sweat began to glisten on his brow; he had not expected his master to wake this quickly and was concerned of the consequences of his lack of such foresight.

"Very well, I did not expect much more from an imbecile such as you. Give me the portkey and I shall correct it to leave as soon as Nagini arrives." The Dark Lord's voice was still high and cold, but Wormtail knew that he would pay for his oversight later. Despite the warm summer air, he began shivering as he groped about in the small bag for the stone portkey, which he quickly handed over to his master. The Dark Lord began waving his wand over the stone in a complicated motion and finished as a giant snake came slithering towards them.

"Ahh, Nagini is here at last," Voldemort said coldly and he began making the strange hissing noises again. Wormtail had never quite gotten over his shock and fear of neither the huge snake nor the disconcerting hissing noises his master used to communicate with it. The hissing stopped abruptly and the Dark Lord stated, "Nagini has finished searching the forest for any witnesses and there is no one here." He stopped to hiss again at the snake and placed a slimy finger on the stone portkey while the snake hissed at Wormtail and slithered near the stone. Wormtail realized at the last second that they were ready to leave and quickly placed a finger on the stone, feeling a tug at his navel as they were whisked away to Little Hangleton, wherever that was.

************

Wormtail felt himself flying face first into the ground as they arrived in Little Hangleton. He immediately heard hissing from both his master and the snake; apparently his master was greatly weakened by the short journey and had also landed face first on the ground. He quickly picked himself up, checked that his bag was still slung over his shoulder and bent down to pick up the small, helpless, disgusting form next to him.

As Wormtail stood up, cradling his master like a small child, he began to observe the surroundings. They appeared to have come out on a hill overlooking a small, sleeping village below. It was nighttime and while there was no moon the stars sparkled brilliantly since there was little ambient light. Set aside from the village a little ways at the bottom of the hill was a small church and graveyard. At the top of the hill sat what must have once been an impressive house. It was still quite impressive, but clearly fallen into disrepair. He began trudging up the hill towards the house, grateful that his master's current form was so light, but at the same time repulsed by the small slimy fingers clinging onto his neck.

He arrived at the front of the house but was too intimidated to enter through the large, heavy door. He walked around to the back of the house and found what appeared to be a servant's entrance, far more welcoming than the imposing front door. He muttered "_Alohamora"_ and the door swung open quietly on greased hinges. He walked in and once again observed his surroundings. He appeared to have entered what was once a kitchen and a thick layer of dust lay over everything. He smirked, confident that no one would find them there, closed the door with a flick of his wand, and began to look for a room that was comfortable enough for their stay, however long that was.

Dismissing the imposing parlor and dining room on the first floor, he crept up the once magnificent staircase to the second floor. At the very end of the hall he found what appeared to have been a private parlor, the furnishings, albeit old and decayed, still had a look of grandeur about them, but the room looked far more inviting than the formal parlor downstairs. There was a large chair and a well worn rug in front of a fireplace, so he carefully deposited his master on the chair while the snake curled up on the rug. He muttered a spell and large crackling flames filled the grate. This made the room seem even more inviting and helped alleviate the slight chill. He began to rummage through the small bag, finally coming across a small bottle of the potion his master needed to retain his small, grotesque form.

"M-my Lord? I have your potion if you desire it," squeaked Wormtail, who knew his master was still too weak to feed himself and he would have to spoon feed him the potion. This was his least favorite part of the day. He looked at the Dark Lord who had quite visibly rolled his yellowing, slimy eyeballs.

"It has been a very tiring journey, I will need my potion," stated the Dark Lord even more coldly than usual. Wormtail gulped and holding the bottle of potion and a spoon proceeded to spoon small amounts into the Dark Lords mouth. While he was doing this, the great snake slowly started slithering out of the room and into the hall, hissing as she went, leaving trails behind in the thick dust on the floor. Finally, after a few minutes, the Dark Lord sighed quietly and leaned back in the chair.

"There is a little more in the bottle if you are hungry, My Lord," stammered Wormtail. He hoped that he was full, this was his least favorite part of the day and right now he wanted nothing more than to run out of the dusty old house screaming like a banshee.

"Later," Voldemort stated in a cold voice. "The journey has tired me greatly. Milk Nagini when she returns as I will need feeding in the night."

Wormtail gulped. He disliked milking Nagini even more than spoon feeding his master potion every few hours. Unfortunately the venom in her fangs was necessary to make the disgusting potion. The fact that she greatly disliked him did not help matters.

"H-how – how long will we be staying here My Lord?" stammered Wormtail. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, he wasn't thrilled waiting on his master hand and foot by himself all the time and was beginning to wish more and more each day that he had faced Dumbledore and the Ministry with whatever they had planned instead of seeking out the Dark Lord. At the same time, while this house was imposing and dusty, it was still a hidden shelter that he had not had previously. He'd probably get a chance to sleep on an old dusty mattress tonight instead of the forest floor, which he was very happy to think about.

"About a week, this place is reasonably comfortable and we cannot proceed further until after the Quidditch World Cup," drawled Voldemort, still facing the fire and now twirling his wand idly in his fingers.

"Why – why is that My Lord? Surely I could go out and find another wizard and bring him back to you," stammered Wormtail. Yes, yes, that was it, at least he could get away for a little while searching for a suitable wizard for his master to use and after that, he would have his body back! Wormtail would not have to spoon feed him potion all the time or milk Nagini every night!

"Quiet, you fool. I have already explained the reasons behind my decision, the Ministry security is too tight because of the Quidditch World Cup and Harry Potter's blood has a special protection from his mother that I desire," Voldemort spat out with not a little contempt at Wormtail. He rolled his eyes once again, a truly terrifying sight for Wormtail who swallowed nervously and continued on.

"B-b-but – but My Lord, you said yourself that that charm only protected him from your touch and surely there are many, many other safety spells put in place by Dumbledore around his relative's house. Surely a pure blood wizard would do better? Harry Potter is only a half-blood after all, his mother being a Mudblood." Wormtail smiled inwardly at this, surely this would appeal to his master, very few of his followers, let alone his enemies knew that his great weakness was his half-blood status. Recreating his body with the blood of a pureblood wizard, one of an ancient family, would surely appeal to his master.

He had struck gold. The Dark Lord looked quite pensive after hearing this proclamation. "Yes, yes," he said musingly, almost to himself. "A pureblood wizard, how did that escape my notice before? I even have the perfect victim…" He seemed to pull out of his reverie. "But Wormtail, while I do quite sense your urge to get away from me, there is no need to run off. I am still quite weak and would lose what little I have regained under your clumsy care. The Ministry security is still too high. We will remain here for another week and then carry out your idea." He smiled coldly at the thought while gazing into the fire. Wormtail gulped at the prospect of being in the house with his master for another week. He brightened a bit as he remember that he only had two days worth of food with him, he would have to go into the small village below to procure supplies, which would allow him a few minutes away from his master!

A Muggle out in the hallway by the name of Frank Bryce had come up to investigate the flames he could see in the grate from his house. He had stood outside the closed door quietly listening to the entire dialogue. He fearfully turned around and returned to his home, desperately hoping that he had been hearing things.

************

A week had passed since Wormtail had arrived with the Dark Lord at Little Hangleton. He was rather pleasantly surprised that his idea had worked and his master was seeking another pureblood wizard for the ritual. While he now required more frequent feedings to build up more strength before the ritual, he was being sent out to gather the necessary supplies to brew the potion. This had unfortunately included a gigantic cauldron that could not be shrunk or charmed to be featherlight and he was required to drag it from Diagon Alley to the graveyard at the bottom of the hill. Fortunately it was not immune to concealing charms and he was barely able to fly it on the back of a broomstick one night. He set up muggle repelling charms all around the graveyard so they would not be disturbed by individuals trying to visit deceased relatives. The Dark Lord firmly believed that no witch or wizard would have any reason to visit the area until he summoned them after getting his body back, so nothing else was put into place to prevent them from coming near.

After an exhausting week of preparations, Wormtail was spoon feeding the Dark Lord, silently hoping and praying to anyone that might listen, that this was the last time he would perform such a task. Once he finished, he began to repack everything into his small bag again. The Dark Lord hissed at Nagini, supposedly to tell her to wait for them at the graveyard. Wormtail picked up the Dark Lord like a child once more, flinching as he did so, the two of them vanishing with a crack a moment later.

************

While the Dark Lord had described the place they needed to go to Wormtail so they could reach the destination safely, he had not told him _where_ it was that they were going. Upon reaching the destination, he saw a large house standing in a well maintained, manicured lawn. An ornate sign in the front stated that they had arrived at the Crouch residence. Wormtail gulped; Barty Crouch was a senior Ministry official who had very nearly become the Minister of Magic about a decade ago and was quite formidable. Fortunately it was nighttime and they were able to sneak up to the house very quietly without attracting the neighbor's attention.

As he reached the front door, he began to feel frightened. He lingered on the front step for a moment before his master started hissing curses at him, forcing him to bite back yelps of pain. He rang the doorbell and prayed Mr. Crouch had a house elf to answer the door and didn't personally see to all callers.

The door opened and a tiny house elf appeared at the door and Wormtail breathed out a sigh of relief. Just as it opened its mouth, the bundle in Wormtail's arms raised a wand and said, "_Imperio!_" The house elf's face went completely blank and quite suddenly turned around and walked back into the house a few feet, then turned to face them again, obviously expecting them to follow. Wormtail trusted the elf since his master had clearly had control over it and he trusted that while in his current condition his master would not do anything to incapacitate him for any length of time. He stepped over the threshold and the elf scurried forward to shut the door behind them. It then silently scurried ahead, clearly leading them someplace.

After going through what seemed to be a maze of corridors, the elf finally stopped at a door and stopped to turn and face them. The Dark Lord shifted in Wormtail's arms and said, "This is the office of Mr. Crouch. He is not expecting us, so remove his wand once the door opens." Wormtail gulped, he did not want to have to duel such a powerful wizard, even if he did have the element of surprise and the most powerful wizard in the world resting in his arms. He gulped again and nodded at the elf to open the door. As soon as it was opened a crack he could see an aged figure bent over a desk. The figure began to stand as soon as it could hear the door opening, but Wormtail was too quick.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!"_ he thundered, watching the wizards wand float through the air and clattered at his feet. The Dark Lord smiled up at Wormtail coldly then almost lazily said "_Imperio_" to the wizard who had just been disarmed. The look of surprise dropped off his face instantly and he picked up his fallen wand from the floor and placed it on the Dark Lord's lap. The Dark Lord then picked it up and placed it in one of his robe pockets while the wizard began heading for the door. The house elf seemed to have been released from the previous enchantment and began to wail.

"Master Barty! Master Barty! Winky is coming!" It then snapped its fingers and disappeared with a loud crack. While Wormtail stared at the spot where the elf had just disappeared, confused as to what it had just said. He presumed that the wizard he had just disarmed and was under his master's control was Barty Crouch; why then did the elf say it was coming to him while he was in view? He didn't have long to fuel his confusion as the elderly wizard began walking forward at a brisk pace.

Wormtail mentally cursed the wizard leading them. He was walking quickly while Wormtail was encumbered with the Dark Lords small form and the bag he had forgotten to charm to be featherlight. He began panting after the first few turns of the maze and hoped that wherever he was leading them was close by.

Abruptly, the wizard stopped at a door and knocked. Wormtail nearly knocked him down as he continued plowing ahead and the Dark Lord hissed at him menacingly. He stood and waited at the door and was very surprised to see it answered by the same house elf from before. The elf gulped nervously seeing the old wizard standing there and a hoarse voice from inside the room was heard.

"Winky? Who's out there? Don't tell Father what's happened!" A young man, rather wild looking came running towards the door. Wormtail looked quite surprised and was really beginning to wonder what was going on when his master finally spoke.

"Ahh, Barty, I have heard that you are still a loyal servant of mine?"

The man gasped at hearing the voice and immediately knelt on the floor. "Always my Lord! Forgive me, I looked for you and there was no trace of where you had gone!"

"Yes, yes, that is forgiven," drawled the Dark Lord lazily. "I have great plans if you wish to accompany me further." This was stated such that no one could mistake that this was a demand rather than a request.

"C-c-certainly my Lord! What is it that you wish for me to do?" The man was still kneeling on the floor and Wormtail suspected the glint in his eyes was due to tears of joy.

"Well then, stun and bind your father. You will accompany Wormtail and I back to the Little Hangleton graveyard."

To Wormtail's great surprise, the Dark Lord flicked his wand and after feeling squished, they were standing in the Little Hangleton cemetery. He hurried over to the giant cauldron and after clumsily removing his masters small robes, carefully seated him in the bottom of the cauldron. The potion went over his head, but according to the manuscripts from which he got the recipe for the potion, the occupant should still be able to breathe normally. Wormtail wasn't particularly concerned about that: if it worked then he no longer had to care for his master as if he were a newborn baby and if it didn't work, well, he wasn't even supposed to be alive in the first place! He could go off and spend the rest of his days as a rat. On the downside, Sirius was out of Azkaban so he'd have to keep avoiding him; maybe he could hide in the kitchens at Malfoy Manor?

He was startled to hear the pop of someone apparating nearby. He turned around and saw the two men from the house earlier. The old wizard was stunned and bound so Wormtail hurried over to help the younger wizard tie him to a nearby headstone. After ensuring he was gagged, the younger man pointed his wand at him and muttered, "_Enervate_". His eyes flew open, but bound and gagged he was unable to do much more than struggle against the restraints. His eyes, which appeared to be bulging out of their sockets, never left the younger man, as if demanding an explanation.

The Dark Lord had carefully been instructing Wormtail in how the ancient ritual worked from some equally old manuscripts. He had them mostly memorized, but closed his eyes, nerves beginning to take control. After the young man looked at him expectantly he took a shaky breath and began:

"_Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"_ At this, a stream of dust came bursting out of one of the graves, flying neatly into the cauldron. The potion which had been clear and sparkling up until now turned a bright shade of blue.

Now came the part that Wormtail dreaded the most. His master needed three things: bones, flesh, and blood. The bones were taken from his long dead father's grave and the blood must be taken from an enemy, in this case, Barty Crouch, and the flesh must be given willingly from a servant. The Dark Lord had decided that since only two of his servants would know of his plans at this time Wormtail would be the one to make the flesh sacrifice. The younger man had willingly gone to Azkaban for his master, now it was his turn to make a similar sacrifice. Taking a deep breath and choking back sobs, he continued:

"_Flesh – of the servant – w-willingly given *hic* - you will – revive – your master…"_ There was nothing more to do, Wormtail clenched his eyes shut, picked up a knife he had placed next to himself on the ground earlier, swung it in the air and brought it down, cleanly chopping off his right hand. He screamed in agony as it fell into the cauldron, barely noticing the potion had turned bright red. He bitterly wished that while learning how to brew this potion he had learned some pain relief spells; his arm was burning in agony and he was wondering about the blood loss. Surely St. Mungo's would not accept him later for blood replenishment potions. He drew a deep, shuddery breath, picked up a small vial, and made his way over to the bound wizard.

"No, let me do it," the young man offered eagerly. Wormtail hesitated but figured that the other man still had two hands and could likely collect the wizard's blood far more quickly and efficiently. He handed over the knife and vial and was slightly sickened at how gleefully they were snatched away from him. The young man rushed over to the bound wizard and lovingly held up the knife as if contemplating where would inflict the most pain. The old wizards eyes looked at him pleadingly but he ignored it. He slowly drew a line down his arm, holding the vial at the wrist to collect the blood. Tears streaked down the old wizard's face and the young man sneered at him. Wormtail quickly grabbed the vial of blood and hurried back to the cauldron, saying:

"_Blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe_." Wormtail poured the blood into the potion. It changed back to bright white then boiled so quickly it all became vapor. A minute later, his master's voice was heard demanding robes. After Wormtail quickly and clumsily robed the tall figure, it stepped out of the cauldron. Lord Voldemort was alive once more.

************

Three years later a gruesome silence fell over the grounds at Hogwarts, broken only by cries of hurt and grief. Parts of the castle were beginning to look a bit worse for wear and there was a rather impressive variety of vegetation snapping and twisting around the black cloaked figures outside. The air was slightly smoky from all the spells that had stopped moments before.

"_You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured._

"_I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."_

Voldemort's cold, high voice echoed unnaturally loudly over Hogwarts. Harry looked bleakly at Ron and Hermione who were standing with him, open mouthed, after the announcement. The din of the battle around them had stopped abruptly.

"Look Harry," Ron said furiously, knowing what the scrawny, dark-haired wizard must be thinking. "Don't you even _think_ about handing yourself over. You know how well he keeps his promises; he'll kill every bloody person in the castle even if you do turn yourself over."

Harry had stopped thinking about Voldemort's proclamation nearly as soon as it had finished. The sole occupant of his mind was a desperate need to see the memories Snape had given his as he was dying; what on Earth was that look about just before he died? Ignoring Ron and Hermione's looks of terror, he began running towards the Headmasters office. He could hear them running behind him, Ron's long stride matching his while Hermione did her best to keep up with the two. Panting, he reached the gargoyle in front of the Headmaster's office. In a sudden panic, he realized that he did not actually know the password to get past it.

"DUMBLEDORE!" bellowed Harry. To his great surprise, the gargoyle stepped aside, permitting him entrance. He ran up the steps three at a time. Gasping for air, he plunged into the office and quickly opened a cabinet to reveal a stone basin carved with runes. He dumped Snape's silvery memories into the basin just as Ron and Hermione ran into the room. He then dove his head into the basin, desperate to discover just what it was that the dying man needed to pass onto him.

************

After what seemed to be an eternity to Harry, he pulled himself out of the basin. Finally, finally, the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Seven horcruxes he was sent to destroy: he had managed the Prevell ring, Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, the diary, and Ravenclaw's diadem. Neville was out there somewhere trying to kill Nagini. Those were six horcruxes. He was the seventh.

_Neither can live while the other survives_, the fateful words of the much hated prophecy. The Boy Who Lived could no longer survive if he wished to restore order to the wizarding world. He was not to be the savior of the wizarding world as so many believed and Voldemort himself feared. His mission was to do what he was meant to all those years ago when he received the scar on his forehead: to die. He did not even have to put up a fight, he simply had to die. He was not meant to be the savior of the wizarding world: that was someone he would have never expected in his short life.

Draco Malfoy.

"_Go and wake Severus," said Dumbledore faintly but clearly. "Tell him what has happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else, and do not remove your cloak. I shall wait here."_

"_But – "_

"_You swore to obey me, Harry – go!"_

_Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, but his hand had only just closed upon the iron ring of the door when he heard running footsteps on the other side. He looked around at Dumbledore, who gestured him to retreat. Harry backed away, drawing his wand as he did so._

_The door burst open and somebody erupted through it and shouted, "_Expelliarmus!"

Yes, Draco Malfoy was now the rightful master of the Elder Wand, only he stood a chance against Voldemort in a duel. He was destined to be the savior of the wizarding world.

************

Ron and Hermione had looked more than a little annoyed as Harry began walking around the office as one possessed. He ran his hands through his hair a few times before running back out of the office without a word. He donned the invisibility cloak as he ran down the stairs, desperately searching for a head of platinum hair. Ron and Hermione completely gave up after losing sight of Harry and went down to the Great Hall to help aid the survivors.

Harry finally found Draco and began hoping against all hope that it wouldn't take ages to convey the vitally important information he just learned. He finally spotted him, thankfully sitting alone against a stone wall in a deserted hallway. He hid from his sight and pulled off the invisibility cloak before quietly walking over to the silent figure.

"Malfoy." It was a statement, calm and collected. Harry felt all his fear leave him, at least for the moment. He was glad, he wasn't sure if he could go through this in a calm, collected manner and it finally seemed that someone, somewhere, was giving him the strength he needed to go through with everything. His fingers closed in on the snitch again; it seemed to be radiating warmth and comfort to him.

Malfoy looked up, surprised that someone had invaded his privacy of the quiet hallway. He instinctively sneered as he saw Harry coming towards him. He stopped, remembering that for all their past grievances, this was still the man who had saved his neck twice since breakfast. However, there was still far too much animosity between the two for him to be polite. "What do you want Potter?" he snapped.

Harry wasn't terribly surprised at the blond's demeanor. The animosity between the two went back far too long to fix before he marched off to his death. He glanced at his beloved, battered watch and gulped as he realized he only had twenty minutes to get through to Malfoy and meet Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest.

"Malfoy," he said hurriedly, "we don't have much time. I know we've never been on the best of terms, but you've _got _to listen to me." Fortunately he seemed to have his undivided attention at this point and he was wondering how much detail he'd have to go into: hopefully he'd cotton on quickly. "Voldemort wants me to go duel him in a few minutes. I'm not going to fight him: I need to die so he can be killed." Harry drew a shaky breath after saying this and Malfoy's jaw had dropped in horror. "The wand he has, it's the same one Death gave to the Pevrell brother in the old story. He's not its master, and if you listen to me, he _never_ will be."

Malfoy continued staring at Harry in disbelief. Harry seized on this and continued plowing ahead. "_You_ are the true master of that wand: the Elder Wand. You became its master the night you failed to kill Dumbledore. If you duel Voldemort, it will _not_ harm you, its rightful master."

By now, Malfoy was beginning to suspect his jaw was dragging along the ground, but try as he might, he couldn't get it to shut. This was just too much to take in all at once. _He_ kill the Dark Lord? That was unbelievable. Harry opened his mouth again, apparently he wasn't quite finished.

"Look Malfoy, it's _extremely_ important that you don't try to duel Voldemort until you know for sure that I'm dead. Voldemort wants to kill me himself and I've evaded him for the past 17 years now so he's going to want to gloat a bit after he kills me. Don't make any attempt to duel him until after you see my body."

Malfoy stared at him for another moment. Finally he said, "Well, Potter, this all very nice and all, but what's in it for me? The Dark Lord might not be particularly pleased with me at the moment, but why should I turn on him?" He really wondered why this was important. Shouldn't he be out there with the Dark Lord right now? Had he not been marked nearly two years ago now? Why then, did this ludicrous plan of Potter's sound so appealing?

Harry stood perfectly still, trying desperately to recall the night up on the tower when Dumbledore had died. "Your mother," he said suddenly. "If you kill Voldemort, he will never be able to threaten your parents again."

Draco paused a moment, considering. This made perfect sense. If he killed the Dark Lord his family would no longer be threatened by him. Much as he disliked the thought of the wizarding world thinking him some great hero, if he did manage to kill him, his family's association with him would likely be discarded. If his family's poor reputation was saved by killing the Dark Lord, he would also be saving himself and his father from solitary cells in Azkaban.

"Alright Potter. I'll wait to see your body and then I'll duel the Dark Lord."

Harry tried to give him an encouraging smile, but it came out more as a grimace as he realized that his task here was finished and the only thing left for him to do was march off to his death. He clutched at the snitch for reassurance as he donned his invisibility cloak and set off for the Forbidden Forest.

************

Draco stood in the hallway, watching Potter disappear under his famed invisibility cloak. His mind was still spinning with the brief conversation that had just occurred. He still had no idea how he of all people was the master of the Dark Lord's wand. Potter was so insistent though; he believed it so deeply that he was willing to walk himself to his death. He still wasn't sure of what his parent's reaction would be. His father believed so staunchly in the Dark Lord, but his mother – she was a lady; she should not be subject to the cruelties of war that she had been subjected to.

He had been amazed that the Dark Lord had even contemplated killing his mother, a pure blood witch. He had recently discovered something even more shocking: the Dark Lord himself was not a pureblood as so many believed; his father had been a muggle. Surely his father and other crazy relations would understand if he were to kill him for betraying their trust in that regard for so long. He glanced down at his watch and noticed that Potter had less than 5 minutes to turn himself into the Dark Lord so he headed down to the Great Hall to see what happened.

A few minutes later Draco entered the Great Hall. The hour was up: the death eaters should be back any moment if Potter had revealed himself. He looked around and noticed that everyone looked a bit dazed. The teachers were running around trying to fix some of the damage and put up protective wards to help hold off the death eaters a little longer and there were various other adults tending to the wounded.

He recognized many of his classmates among the survivors, usually carrying smaller children who seem to have snuck back in to fight, despite McGonagall's insistence that anyone under 17 needed to leave the castle. He was stunned to see the Weasley girl helping a sobbing third year. His heart jumped in his throat; here she was helping when she was only a sixth year! He rushed forward and picked up the small girl she was supporting, glancing at her, horrified at the mess she was. Her normally neat red hair was wild, her face was white and smudged with tears, and he could see various cuts on her skin and robes where spells had grazed past her. He did his best to give her an encouraging smile and hurried off to the end of the hall where the dead and wounded were being gathered and treated. The girl in his arms began sobbing.

"I don't want to be here! I want my mum!" she wailed. Draco looked down at her: she wasn't wounded too badly but she had nasty looking gashes on the right side of her body. He was clueless as to how to comfort her; he had always been the one being comforted, not the other way around.

He walked more quickly, hoping that a healer would be able to care for this poor, stupid fool of a girl who had bravely thrown herself into a battle against full grown, vicious wizards and witches. He gently placed her on the floor and was immediately pushed aside by several mothers and a healer who began waving their wands at her and pouring a potion down her throat. She seemed to calm instantly and breathing a sigh of relief, he started back to the hall to collect more of the injured.

In his rush to get to the girl help, he did not realize that he had passed through where the dead were being collected. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized one of the Weasley twins lying among them. He would have never admitted it to anyone, but he had always had a great admiration for those two. They seemed to possess the best qualities of every house at Hogwarts. They had the brains of the Ravenclaws, the loyalty of the Hufflepuffs, the bravery of the Gryffindors, and the sly cunning of the Slytherins. Despite their reign of terror while he was part of the Inquisitorial Squad, he could not help his admiration of them, especially when they made their great exit proclaiming they already had a shop on Diagon Alley. He had made it a special point to give them all of his business and had stopped all trips to Zonko's despite the fact he had easier access to it in Hogsmeade.

He realized that her brother's death must have been the reason the Weasley girl's face had been caked in tears. His heart dropped into his stomach as he realized that Potter was as good as family to them and he was walking to his death, if not already dead right this moment. If he survived his encounter with the Dark Lord, he was going to have to go pay his respects to the Weasley family and let them know of Harry's great sacrifice for them all.

Swallowing hard, he continued walking around, looking for wounded survivors. Everyone else seemed to have done an excellent job already as everyone was walking around, talking to one another in hushed voices, all with pale faces set with resolve.

Just as he was starting to wonder what he should do, he began to hear great heaving sobs in the distance. Startled, he walked over to a window and noticed the sobs were accompanied by shouts and crashing. The half-giant Hagrid came into view, clutching a bundle in his arms, surrounded by giants and death eaters. As he came closer, Draco realized it was Potter. He was really dead. His resolve was now completely set and he waited to face the Dark Lord.

************

Draco swallowed nervously again, trying to block out all his thoughts as he and the Dark Lord circled one another in the Great Hall. It seemed that he had talked to Potter in another lifetime, not half an hour ago. He was doing this for his family and the rest of the world. Everyone was standing around the two of them in a circle, he couldn't escape. How on earth had he gotten here?

The Dark Lord was sneering at him. "So Draco Malfoy, why is it again that you wish to duel me?"

Draco was quiet for a moment. He really had no good reason other than that Potter wanted him to. He knew better than to keep the Dark Lord waiting or tell him lies, so he said, "Well, it's not really my choice. Potter came running up to me saying that he was going to die shortly and I was the only one who could defeat you."

Voldemort let out a high, cold laugh. "Ah yes, but what makes you think you can kill the most powerful wizard of all time?" Many of the death eaters began cackling in agreement with Voldemort's sentiment. How could this young boy who failed to kill Dumbledore possibly have a chance of killing the Dark Lord?

"I have no idea," Draco said honestly. "But I do know that Potter was so sure of it that he was willing to walk to his death." He was really starting to doubt this entire plan. Why _did_ Potter think he could defeat the Dark Lord? Dumbledore had even told him that he was not a killer, how could he be expected to survive against such a powerful wizard that had ruthlessly killed so many?

Voldemort sneered again. "Well then, let us end this! _AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

"_STUPEFY!"_ Draco blessed his quick reflexes that had landed him the seeker position on the Slytherin Quidditch team that the spell had sprung off his lips as soon as he realized the Dark Lord's intent. The moment he cast it, he mentally cursed himself. _Stupefy? Was __I__ stupefied when I cast that? I'll be killed for sure!_

He watched in amazement as the spells hit in mid-air. Voldemort red eyes widened in horror as his wand flew out of his hand and his curse turned on him. Both Voldemort and his wand clattered to the ground.

It was finally over. The Dark Lord was truly dead and would never threaten his family again._aHal;sdkjfa;oijgja;iefjhh_


	2. Meetings

**Chapter 1 – Meetings**

Draco sighed as he put down his cup of morning tea. The Daily Prophet had been delivered to him, as usual, but he was growing rather tired of all the glowing articles written about him. He felt so dead and empty having seen all the dead witches and wizards gathered up in the Great Hall the previous week. While he was glad that the wizard responsible for all those deaths was finally dead, his mind was still reeling from all the death and destruction witnessed. His father, Lucius Malfoy, had been killed shortly before he killed the Dark Lord. _He_ killed the Dark Lord, the lord he had promised to serve not two years ago when his view of the world was so different than it was now. He had still just been a little boy at the time, but he knew he would have hurt anyone who told him as much at the time.

His mother had fortunately taken both her husband's death and her son's betrayal rather stoically. He was grateful for this because he really didn't think his mind could handle too much at the moment. She had actually confided in him after things began to settle down somewhat that she couldn't care what side she chose to be on, so long as she and her family stayed safe. Thankfully Lucius had been killed by a poorly aimed shot from another Death Eater so she blamed them for his death. She had been busy all week preparing her husband's funeral and Draco suspected that she spent the rest of her time in her chambers mourning his death._  
_

Draco was reading through the obituaries once again. Even though the battle had been a week ago, the _Daily Prophet_ had been overwhelmed due to the large number of deaths. For the most part they were going through the names alphabetically, although the obituaries for some of the more prominent participants in the battle had been published the following day. Even fallen Death Eaters had been allowed their spot since it was expected that their families were mourning them just as much as any other family. Both Bellatrix Lestrange's and Lucius Malfoy's obituaries had been published 3 days previously and Narcissa had carefully cut them out and framed them.

Finally, something in the paper caught Draco's attention. _Harry Potter_. He was honestly amazed that it had taken this long for his obituary to make it into the paper. Frowning, he realized that it was remarkably short, but fortunately gave the specifics to the memorial service, stating that it would be held in conjunction with Fred Weasley's. It was to be held at The Burrow the day after tomorrow. He needed to look up where this Burrow place was as he very much wanted to attend.

Still engrossed in his reading he barely noticed a small woman gracefully entering the room. She was rather short, but very slim, with delicate features. Her hair was white, but her face was unwrinkled. After a moment's hesitation, Draco stood up abruptly._  
_

"Good morning, Mother. I hope you slept well?"

The woman stopped and beamed at him. "Good morning Draco. I slept well, thank you." She swished over to the table and gracefully seated herself before delicately choosing a pastry from the tray in front of her. A teapot floated over to her and began pouring tea into a cup before returning to its original place on the table. Draco frowned slightly, he doubted she actually slept well and was merely trying to put on a bright front for him. He had walked past her sitting room very early that morning and had heard racking sobs through the door. While he wished to do something for her, he knew that any attempts he made to comfort her would be poorly received.

Draco ran his fingers through his silky hair. He was still constantly surprised whenever he did this since cutting it three days previously. His father had had trademark long, platinum blonde hair and Draco no longer wished to be viewed as merely an extension of his father. His first step in doing this was to cut his long hair to a few inches. He was hoping that soon enough, after he had appropriately mourned his father, he would be able to do away with the black, somber robes Lucius had always worn. After those two changes to his appearance, he hoped his change in thoughts would affect the rest of his life and how people thought of the name Malfoy.

"Draco." Narcissa had a look of concern on her face. "Draco darling, are you alright? You haven't answered my question."

Draco's mind snapped out of his reverie. "I apologize Mother. Would you mind repeating your question? I'm afraid I didn't hear it."

Narcissa smiled sadly at him. His father's funeral would be held in two hours and she wasn't terribly surprised that he seemed lost in thought. "I was wondering if you would be comfortable reading the eulogy dear. I understand if you don't; I've already asked Lord Nott to read it if you would prefer to grieve."

Draco set his tea down again, wondering if he was ever going to get a chance to finish it before the funeral. He was shocked and pleased that his mother wanted him to read the eulogy. It was a piece of art she had been crafting since the day after Lucius died and he had pretended to listen to her ongoing revisions of it at dinner for the past week. "Yes Mother, I would be – honored to read Father's eulogy." He meant it whole heartedly too; he had loved his father even if he didn't agree with him and he _was_ incredibly honored that his mother trusted him to deliver it. Glancing down at his watch, he decided that he should probably read over what his mother had written so it would be suitably delivered. Excusing himself from the table, he strode off to his mother's desk in her sitting room, reading what she had poured her soul into for the past week.

************

_"Lucius Malfoy, although viewed by outsiders as cold and unforgiving, was quite a different man to those who knew and loved him." _Despite preparing himself prior to the funeral, Draco still felt himself choking a bit on these last words. Nothing could be truer, his father had indeed been a cruel, vicious man, but he loved his friends and family with a fierce passion. "Please come into the Manor, a luncheon has been prepared for the guests." He bowed after stepping away from the podium and walked over towards his mother.

"Come Mother - it's time." The burial, unlike the funeral, was a private affair with just himself and his mother. All of his grandparents were dead, but at the moment he desperately wished that Grandfather Abraxas hadn't come down with dragon pox two years ago. He desperately wanted to have someone other than himself and his mother bury his father. He offered his arm to his mother, which she took gracefully and they set off somberly across the grounds to the family cemetery.

************

Two days after his father's funeral, Draco found himself growing more and more anxious as he prepared to go to Potter and Weasley's memorial service. Tradition demanded that he wear black for the next three weeks to properly mourn his father's death so leaving the manor dressed in somber black robes would not arouse suspicion. While Narcissa approved of his decision in defying everything his father stood for, he wasn't so sure if she'd be so understanding of his desperate need to see the Weasley's and apologize. He had finally managed to locate this Burrow place: apparently it was what the Weasley's called their house, if you wanted to call it that. He privately hoped that the service would be held somewhere in their garden since he wasn't entirely certain that the house was stable. He walked briskly out the foyer and apparated over to Ottery St. Catchpole.

Arriving with a small pop, he quickly observed his surroundings. He could see the rickety structured named the Burrow and to his great relief saw a large tent setup next to it. He strode quickly through the grass towards the tent, looking at the loose chickens at the front stoop rather distastefully. Although the tent was large, it was even larger on the inside than it was on the outside. There appeared to be seating available for roughly five hundred people and it was pretty crowded. Looking up he saw that the top of the tent had been charmed and showed dark, stormy clouds, quite a contrast to the clear sunny skies outside the tent.

The seats inside the tent had been arranged in a circle around a circular platform in the center that was revolving very slowly. One coffin was visible from his view; he presumed the second was on the opposite side of the platform. Nearly half the people there seemed to have red hair; he knew the Weasley's were renowned for large families but he never realized there were quite this _many_ of them. Feeling quite uncomfortable and out of place, he found a seat towards the back where there weren't too many redheads. Glancing at the woman seated to his left, he bit back a shout.

"Pardon me, my name is Draco Malfoy." He stuck out his hand, hoping she would introduce herself. He just couldn't believe this woman was sitting here, he _saw_ Mrs. Weasley kill her only last week. Even if she were alive, he could hardly imagine her sitting quietly at a funeral for Harry Potter and Fred Weasley.

She too looked taken aback. "Andromeda Tonks," she said in a surprised tone as she shook his hand. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you here." Gesturing to the baby she was bouncing on her lap she continued, "This is my grandson, Teddy Lupin. Say hello to Mr. Malfoy, Teddy."

The baby's hair turned from its rather strange turquoise color to a pale blonde matching Draco's and it gave him a toothless grin. "Oh thank goodness Teddy, please keep your hair that color until we get home!" Smiling she looked at Draco. "I'm afraid he's a metamorphagus just like his mother. It's very difficult at times to keep them tidy looking if they suddenly decide they need a new hair length and color."

Draco recalled his own mother trying to calm his hair at various functions when he was little and chuckled. He still had an important question for her. "Mrs. Tonks, please do forgive me for asking, but what was your maiden name?"

She looked at him incredulously. "You were never told? No, no I guess not." She sighed heavily. "Mr. Malfoy, I'm really not sure if I should be the one telling you that."

Draco was taken aback by her reaction; he hadn't expected anything like this. "I'm very sorry Mrs. Tonks; it's just that at first I thought you were my Aunt Bellatrix. I was wondering if the two of you were related in anyway." After realizing what he said, he winced inwardly. Aunt Bella never had many redeeming qualities: she was ruthless, cold, uncaring, had a thoroughly unhealthy obsession with the Dark Arts, and was considered by many to be insane.

She laughed rather hollowly, but it was still a much warmer and merrier laugh than his aunt's had been. "Mr. Malfoy, I unfortunately grew up with your aunt, and your mother too for that matter. My maiden name was Black, but I was disinherited many, many years ago for marrying a Muggleborn against the wishes of my parents."

Draco stared at her in shock, his mind reeling, and at the last moment realized his mouth was hanging open and he shut it. "Mother never said she had another sister," he all but whispered. "Even in childhood pictures, it was just her and Bellatrix..." He stopped and thought for a moment. "Mrs. Tonks, would you care to come over for tea today? The recent... events have brought it forth that my mother does not care about sides or politics, only family. Right now she believes I am the only family she has left, I'm sure she'd be delighted to see you again."

Mrs. Tonks' mouth now was hanging slightly open in disbelief. "Mr. Malfoy," she began gently, "I'm really not sure that's the best idea…" She was cut off by a voice coming from the center of the tent. A wizard had gotten on the spinning platform and cleared his throat to begin the eulogies. All the quiet chatter throughout the tent died away quickly; only sobbing from the center of the tent could be heard. Draco peeked around the side of the aisle and saw that the sobbing was coming from a plump redheaded woman. He breathed a sigh of relief; that was Mrs. Weasley and seated next to her was her tall, thin redheaded husband. Now he knew where to find them later.

The eulogy for the two wizards was nearly as long as his fathers had been but very enlightening to him. He hadn't known either wizard particularly well and drank it all in. He was rather unsurprised that Fred was a natural born troublemaker and had been finding ways to play pranks since he was a baby, always with his trusty twin, George. While he had always heard about Harry in the press, he was utterly unaware that he lived in a tiny, spider filled room under the stairs for a decade. What Draco had always interpreted to be an incredible amount of arrogance turned out to be an incredible meekness at learning his role in the world just before coming to Hogwarts. He felt a sudden surge of regret: he had always been nasty to these two wizards and his final glimpses of them and what he was hearing now he felt that he should have been nicer, or at least not given Harry such an ultimatum on their very first trip on the Hogwarts Express.

"The burial is private, only family is invited. Guests are welcome to visit the refreshments tables located near the house." The man stepped off the slowly spinning platform, performing some sort of spell on himself. Draco guessed was a charm to ward off any dizziness and nausea from spinning in a circle for so long. Voices started murmuring again and people began standing to walk over to the refreshments.

"Mrs. Tonks, please consider my offer to come to tea today." Malfoy stopped for a moment as she looked ready to protest. "I know that you may have been disowned years ago, but I think that you'll find my mother's views have changed since then. Even if they haven't, she is no longer living up to any obligations that she privately disagrees with."

She looked taken aback which pleased him. He honestly thought that Narcissa would be delighted to see her sister again. "I need to go speak to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, if you could stay here, I'll return and bring you back to the manor." He strode off to meet up with the Weasley family as they rather dejectedly left the grave sites.

"Mr. Weasley," said Draco once he had caught up with them. "I've come to extend my condolences for your losses. I've always liked Fred, even though it probably didn't show, and I came to have a deep respect for Harry Potter." The others, who had been standing behind their parents looking forlorn and dejected, looked very much so surprised at this statement.

"Hold on," said one of them angrily. He was rather short and stocky for a Weasley, although that description wouldn't apply amongst the rest of the population; he looked to be just shy of six feet and rather thin. He was also missing an ear so Draco surmised this must be George, the recently deceased Fred's twin. "How can you say that you've always liked Fred? You were always picking on him when you were a prefect!"

One of the brothers snorted. This one was decidedly tall and lanky, even for a Weasley. Draco was a bit uneasy, he really wasn't sure if they'd understand the reasons for his actions and was beginning to wonder if this whole chat was a waste of time. "Well, that was almost always so I could see what pranks you'd pull on us." He smirked, remembering the brilliance they'd had his fifth year. "It actually worked rather well, if I picked on the Gryffindors, you two would start handing out your joke stuff, and even though a lot of it was directed at me, I always thought it was a great laugh. The work you two did was bloody brilliant. I did have to keep up appearances for my own housemates though."

Hearing this, George actually showed a shadow of a smile on his face, as did the red haired girl with them. She was in the year behind him and he thought her name was Ginny or Winny or something like that. He hadn't really kept track of all their names. Another stab of guilt shot through him as he realized that he barely knew these people. He cleared his throat and continued. "Well, I'm not sure if anyone else is aware of this, I certainly haven't seen it in the papers."

He glanced around them nervously. Potter did seem to share everything with his two sidekicks, both of whom were staring at him at this moment. Did they already know? He'd feel like such a fool if he had come here to tell them something they already knew, but if he didn't, he'd look like an even bigger fool. "Well, Potter, Weasley, and Granger had saved my neck twice already that night. I was sitting in a deserted corridor trying to calm down when I heard someone running towards me. It was Potter and he seemed to be in a hurry. I don't exactly remember what he told me, but the general gist was that in order to destroy the Dark Lord, he needed to be killed first. He said something about me being the only one who could win a dual against the Dark Lord. I really don't remember the details as to why, but I remember being so surprised that he was willing to walk to his death and entrust me with that when my loyalties had never been with his that I felt obligated to him to at least try."

Draco swallowed nervously. He had babbled out everything all at once and no one had interrupted him. In fact, every single person standing there had a look of incredulity etched on their faces. Finally Mrs. Weasley burst into tears again.

"I-I-I always knew *hic* that Harry would do something *gasp* like that!" To his great surprise, she ran up to him and engulfed him in a tight hug, wetting the front of his robes with her tears, and he expected a few bruised or broken ribs with the way she was squeezing him. His own mother had never demonstrated such affection towards him and he stiffened in surprise. Breathing was starting to become difficult, so Draco began tentatively patting her back, desperately hoping that she would relinquish her death grip soon.

Mr. Weasley came over smiling gently and patted him on the back, gently trying to pry his wife off of Draco. "Thank you so much for telling us this… Draco. You have no idea how welcoming it is to hear someone's selflessness being reaffirmed for you."

"Yes, yes," gasped Mrs. Weasley shakily. "We're rather busy today as you can imagine, but would you like to come over sometime this week for dinner? As a thank you for telling us this information and lightening our hearts." Two of the boys behind her glowered but she didn't pay attention to them. "Just floo us anytime to tell us when to expect you."

Draco was so surprised he actually took a step back. As much as he distrusted their house, he desperately wanted to learn more about this family he seemed to be so wrong about. "Absolutely, I'd love to do that." Inwardly he smirked, wonder what his father would have thought of him going to eat dinner with the Weasley's.

Mr. Weasley smiled gently at this. "Draco then, we'll see you later in the week. I'm afraid we have to go see the other guests now. But thank you so very much for coming to tell us everything." Shaking his hand, he turned and walked to the refreshment tables with the rest of his family following behind him.

Watching them leave, Draco supposed it was time for him to leave as well. He scanned the crowd for Mrs. Tonks and her grandson, hoping they'd still be there. After desperately searching the rather large crowd for a few minutes, he finally found them where he had last spoken to them. His face lit up that she had finally agreed to come to tea with him then. "You're coming then?" he asked excitedly when he reached her.

She smiled nervously. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, what you said earlier was very much in-line with your mother when she was a little girl. If she's still like that, then I'd love nothing more than to become re-acquainted with my little sister."

************

Draco had been absolutely delighted at the recent events. He had found a long lost aunt, spoken to the Weasley's without making a fool of himself, and had been invited to dinner with the Weasley's and would be able to learn more about them within the next week all in one afternoon. Leading Mrs. Tonks in the front door, he gave the waiting house elf his cloak.

"Millie, I've brought guests for tea. Would you make sure another setting is out and arrange for some food for a baby?" Draco spoke kindly to the elf, the elf he had growing had been poorly treated by his father and it managed to gain the freedom it so desperately yearned for. Showing kindness for other creatures was also a trait Lucius did not have and he hoped to set himself apart by doing the opposite.

"Of course master Draco! Would you like me to inform mistress Narcissa of your arrival?" The elf, apparently a female, had an extremely high pitched, squeaky voice that made Draco's ears want to bleed from time to time, but the elf was incredibly kind to himself and his mother.

"No, no thank you Millie." With that the elf snapped its fingers and disappeared from the foyer.

Draco turned to Mrs. Tonks and offered her his arm. "My mother should be in the drawing room, I'll show you up there." Smiling nervously again, she took his arm and they began to walk through the halls.

************

Narcissa was sitting in the drawing room wondering where her son had gotten off to. She knew that he had become quite popular in the past week since he killed the Dark Lord, but he had always arrived earlier than this for afternoon tea. Frowning slightly she glanced at a two handed clock. Both hands pointed to a position labeled "Home" and she debated calling a house elf to go find him. A sigh caught in her throat as she glanced at a frame containing what appeared to be another hand of the clock. It was labeled "Lucius" and had fallen off the clock face last week, but she couldn't bear not seeing it quite yet.

Her examination of the clock was interrupted by footsteps outside the entrance to the drawing room. She sat up straighter and smiled expecting Draco to walk in, but suddenly the footsteps stopped and she heard whispering.

"I think I'll just go in and explain to Mother that I have a surprise guest and then come back and get you. Hopefully it will be less of a shock…"

"What surprise guest?" Narcissa drawled as she stood up and walked to the entrance. She stopped when she got to the doorframe. "Oh… my… _Andy?_" Her normally pale face lost any color that it had a moment ago.

"It's me, Cissy. This son of yours talked me into coming over for tea…" Mrs. Tonks sounded very nervous again.

"I did, Mother," interrupted Draco, trying to make sense of what was happening. "I know how important family is to you and while I was out today, I ran into Mrs. Tonks and mistook her for Aunt Bella. I know you've had your differences in the past, but given recent events I thought you two might enjoy each others company again."

Narcissa didn't seem to have heard a word her son said, she was still staring at her long lost sister in wonder. "Andy… Andy… I never, _never_ thought I'd get a chance to see you again."

Mrs. Tonks smiled nervously. "Well, Cissy, here I am." With that she stepped forward to give her sister a tentative hug. Narcissa responded by clinging to her like a drowning woman clinging to a lifeboat.

"Oh my, Andy, I can't believe it's you," sobbed Narcissa. "I never thought I'd see you again after that fight with Father. Would – would you like to stay for tea?"

"I'd love to," Mrs. Tonks sobbed back. "It's so good to see you again Cissy, _really_ see you."


	3. Dinner

**Chapter 2 – Dinner**

Three days after Harry and Fred's funeral, Draco flooed the Weasley's to ask if it was alright to come for dinner that evening. Mrs. Weasley was delighted that he was really accepting her offer and told him to arrive sometime between five and six o'clock that evening. He was feeling guilty that he had always teased the Weasley's about not having any money all through school so he specifically chose a pair of robes that couldn't be considered pompous or ostentatious unless you considered the fact that he was the first person to wear these robes. They were simple, plain black robes since he was still in necessary mourning for his father and he suspected the Weasley's similarly would be in mourning. Actually, for that matter, he suspected that most of Wizarding Britain was in mourning and probably a fair number of muggles as well.

Draco's next worry was what to bring. He had always been taught to bring something to give to the host when invited somewhere but he had to admit that he didn't know the Weasley's well enough to think of a good gift. He didn't want to bring a bottle of wine because there were far too many people to appreciate it properly and he didn't think it would look appropriate to bring along a case of wine. He thought about asking the house elves to prepare a dish that he could bring over, but scratched that idea off as well. He had heard that the Weasley matriarch was an excellent cook and bringing along a dish might give her the idea that he did not trust her cooking.

_Flowers!_ Draco thought suddenly. There, he could get a beautiful arrangement of flowers that all of them could enjoy and it shouldn't appear to ostentatious. He was only too aware of how much he had belittled the Weasley's for their lack of money while they were in school and he was desperate for someone, _anyone_ to see that he had changed drastically.

Having made up his mind at last, Draco stopped pacing his room and began walking downstairs to the drawing room to inform his mother of his plans for the evening. It was about a five minute walk from his room, since the manor was so large, and he was very grateful for that as it gave him a chance to prepare what he was going to say to her. He hadn't mentioned seeing the Weasleys to her yet and really wasn't sure what her reaction would be. He knew that she would be more than happy to see his Aunt Andy, regardless of her blood status, solely on the fact that she was family. They were only very, very distantly related to the Prewetts and the Weasleys, not nearly close enough to be considered family, and they were still blood traitors.

Draco stopped in surprised as he approached the drawing room, hearing two women's voices and tinkling laughter. Narcissa was very reserved and formal whenever she had visitors; this sounded absolutely nothing like her typical tea parties. Knitting his brow in confusion, he resumed walking to determine what was going on, trying to walk softly on the marble floors in his particularly noisy shoes. His face brightened as he reached the drawing room and saw his mother and his aunt sitting on the floor giggling madly. It was such a relief seeing Narcissa happy and enjoying life again and he suspected that since he had met Aunt Andy at the Weasley's she might help soften her sister if she showed any concerns about him associating with them.

"Good afternoon, Mother," Draco said warmly. "And Aunt Andy! It's a pleasure to see you here again!"

The two women giggled again. "Good afternoon Draco," smiled Narcissa. "I'm afraid you missed tea with us again, will you be at dinner? There's something we'd like to discuss with you." Both she and her sister smiled up at him from where they were seated on the floor.

Draco's face fell. He hated denying his mother anything, particularly lately, but he had already promised the Weasleys that he'd be at the Burrow within the hour. "I'm very sorry Mother," he said regretfully. "I already have a dinner engagement that I'm afraid I can't back out of."

Narcissa brightened even more at hearing this. "Ooh, and which young lady will you be seeing tonight?" Her eyes were sparkling and Andromeda looked up at him expectantly. Draco barely succeeded in not rolling his eyes in front of the two ladies. His mother had been pestering him for the past year about the fact that he had yet to have a serious girlfriend. Apparently she was quite desperate for grandchildren and had forgotten that her son was still seventeen: far too young he thought to be settling down. He didn't even like any of the Slytherin girls around his age and had never paid much attention to girls from the other houses. He suspected that he was going to have to go abroad for a few years to find a wife.

"I'll be eating with the Weasley family this evening," Draco said smoothly, grateful that his nerves did not show in his voice. Narcissa's eyes widened at this statement, but she fortunately did not look angry or upset with him. Andromeda's face lit up with a warm, broad smile. "That, actually, was my purpose of coming to see you. I'll be leaving soon and didn't want you to worry about where I was all evening."

"I wasn't aware that you were even speaking to the Weasley's," Narcissa said in surprise.

Andromeda thankfully cut in, saving Draco the trouble. "Actually Cissy, I met Draco at Fred and Harry's funeral. I'm rather thankful that he made it out unscathed, Molly looked like she might have broken some of his ribs." Both women began laughing.

"Ooh, Molly Prewett," gasped Narcissa between her laughs. "She never was one to let her feelings go unnoticed, now was she? Tell me, Draco, what on Earth did you say to her?"

Draco began shifting on his feet uncomfortably. He was quite surprised at his mother's behavior, he had been expecting her to be somewhat upset and cold towards him after discovering he would be consorting with blood traitors for the evening. "I offered the family my condolences after the service," he said softly. He really had changed, before he would have expected to be glorified for such an act taken at his own initiative, but now he felt that his mother and aunt were intruding on something deeply personal.

Andromeda chuckled. "That would certainly do it."

Narcissa nodded in agreement, still laughing to herself. "Well then dear, have fun with the Weasleys this evening. I suppose our discussion can hold off till breakfast."

************

Draco apparated to Diagon Alley after saying his goodbyes to his mother and aunt. He rushed quickly through the crowded street; he had not expected his conversation with his mother to take quite that long and he still needed to pick up some flowers before apparating to the Burrow. He noted that there were indeed many more witches and wizards wearing somber black robes in the street than typically seen in May. He finally found the tiny florist shop at the far end of Diagon Alley and opened the door, hearing the tinkle of a bell as he did so.

His first thought was despair and disgust. Nearly all the flowers in the shop were charmed black, presumably since so many people were in mourning. Draco hated black flowers and while he and the Weasleys were undoubtedly still in mourning for their fallen relatives, he could not bring himself to remind them all of that tonight. Sighing, he walked to the back of the shop where he had spotted a peek of color.

Stepping into the glorious color of the hidden flowers in the back, one arrangement caught his eye straightaway and reminded him instantly of the Weasleys. It was a decently large arrangement of large red roses and small yellow lilies. To anchor the vivid flowers, sprigs of baby's breath and large, deep green ivy leaves were interspersed throughout the arrangement. He immediately picked it up and paid for it, leaving the store behind him. Stepping out into the crowded street once more, he took a deep breath and apparated to the Burrow.

************

Draco arrived at the Burrow with a faint popping noise. He frowned, looking at the sky and noticed that while it had been sunny in London, it looked as if it might rain at any moment here. He quickly set off towards the house and knocked on the door.

Moments later, a girl with a long mane of brilliantly red hair opened the door. "Hello," began Draco uncertainly, "my name is Draco Malfoy, I'm supposed to come here for dinner this evening."

"Ginny Weasley," the girl stated before grabbing his hand and pumping it enthusiastically. "You were a prat at school but it seems that you've certainly grown up. Come on in." She turned around into the house and he followed her in amazement. _Ginny! I was right!_he crowed to himself, grinning widely. _Now, I've got four names down, hopefully I won't make too much of a fool of myself. _

He found himself being led into a small kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was facing away from him, directing her wand at various piles of vegetables. Moments later, knives had come flying out of a drawer and began expertly peeling and chopping the vegetable piles at an alarming rate.

"Turnips, carrots, potatoes," she muttered. "Yes, that should be enough… Now the roast needs another round of peppering before it finishes…"

"Mum," Ginny began. "Draco Malfoy arrived."

She whirled around facing the two of them. Draco smiled uncertainly and held out the flowers he had just picked up. "Here, er, I got these for you…" His voice was cut off quite suddenly as Mrs. Weasley engulfed him in another one of her hugs. Ginny smiled at him tentatively over her mother's head; it appeared that she was desperately trying not to laugh as her mother crushed him.

"Oh, thank you, m'dear, that's very sweet of you." She smiled, wiping a tear out of her eye and floated the flower arrangement onto the kitchen table. "Dinner will be done soon enough, Ginny could you show him out to the parlor?" She smiled broadly at the two of them before hurrying back to the counter and busying herself with the now chopped piles of vegetables.

Ginny turned and faced a door which she held open for Draco. "You know," he said as he attempted to hold the door open for her, "gentlemen are the ones who should be opening doors for ladies, not the other way around."

She snorted. "You must not know my brothers then," she said with a toss of her hair. "I'd like to see them do that, even once. Besides," she said, smirking at him, "you don't exactly know where you're going, now do you?"

Draco had the grace to cast his eyes towards the floor. "No, I suppose I don't." He followed her through another doorway into a room which, at first glance, appeared to be hosting a redhead convention. Mr. Weasley sprang up as soon as he saw Ginny and Draco enter the room.

"Ah, Draco so glad you could join us!" he exclaimed, running over and pumping his hand in the same manner Ginny had earlier. "Now, let me introduce you to everyone. That one over in the corner is my eldest son, Bill." One of the shorter, stockier Weasleys with a heavily scarred face grinned and waved. "Sitting next to him is his wife, Fleur." A woman he vaguely recognized from the Triwizard Tournament who _had_ to be part Veela waved at him, gently placing one of her pale, slender hands on top of Bill's large, scarred hand. "Next is Percy," a lanky redhead with horn-rimmed glasses nodded solemnly at him; Draco thought he had been a prefect when he was at Hogwarts. "Then we have George, whom I believe you spoke to earlier in the week…" His voice drifted off a bit, clearly not wanting to discuss the funeral. The redhead missing an ear nodded stiffly. "Next are Ron and his girlfriend, Hermione, who I believe you know from school." Two of Potter's friends looked up at him and Draco's eyebrows shot up. He had known they were friends, but _dating_? Maybe Potter's death had affected them deeply and they ran to each other for comfort. "Finally, we have Ginny, whom you met earlier." Ginny was clearly nowhere near as tall as her brothers, but she definitely had the same stocky frame as Bill and George. "There," said Mr. Weasley rubbing his hands together, "now that introductions have been done, please do take a seat."

Glancing around the room cautiously, Draco desperately tried to not let his concern shine through his features. Most of the furniture seemed overburdened by Weasley's as it was, and even if it hadn't been, it was very clearly old and worn. He finally spotted a spindly wooden chair near the door, seized it, and sat down. Ginny leapt up and squeezed onto a loveseat with Ron and Hermione.

"So, Draco," said Mr. Weasley trying to engage them all in conversation, "have you decided what you'll be doing now that you've completed school?"

Draco shifted nervously in his chair, hearing it squeak dangerously as he did so. "Well…" he began uncertainly, "I actually hadn't put much thought into it. I've spent the past year trying to keep my family safe and not much else."

Mr. Weasley chuckled. "Well, you certainly have more reasons than most to be uncertain about your future, but don't hesitate to ask us anything. Bill and Fleur are curse breakers for Gringotts, Percy works for the Ministry, George and Ron are entrepreneurs, and Hermione couldn't make up her mind and is training in law enforcement and healing." He chuckled. "If you really feel like going on the wild side, you could always write my other son, Charlie: he's a dragon keeper over at the reservation in Romania."

Draco tried to contain his amazement. There seemed to be so much more freedom for this family than the ones he had grown up with. Husbands were expected to become Death Eaters, possibly with various charity projects on the side that they only cared about for the substantial government influence that accompanied them. The wives were expected to do nothing more than either join the Death Eaters if they were particularly feisty, or sit at home raising an heir and hosting tea parties. He had privately thought this was an incredibly boring way to go through life, but until the past week, he hadn't dreamed of a way to escape that same fate. He looked around, all of them, with the exception of Ron, actually looked at him interestedly to see if he was going to ask them any questions.

"Er," he said nervously, "thank you very much for the offer. I really haven't had a chance…" He was abruptly interrupted by Mrs. Weasley announcing dinner was ready. He jumped up and held the door open as the rest of the Weasley's bounded out of the room towards the kitchen. Ginny and Hermione were the last ones to leave so he smirked at Ginny, who responded by sticking her tongue out at him. He entered the kitchen to find Mrs. Weasley barking orders at her children.

"George, you set the plates out on the table, Ron, you do the silverware. I do NOT want to see anymore knives stuck in the ceiling. Fleur and Hermione, if you two dears could put the food on the table… thank you dears."

The rest of them squished together at the table while a pile of plates went flying past in two straight lines, landing neatly in front of everyone. The silverware soon followed, the only mishap being a fork that tried to embed itself in Percy's arm. Mrs. Weasley scolded Ron and applied a healing charm to Percy's arm while Hermione and Fleur floated all the dishes onto the table. Draco was amazed at how everyone obeyed Mrs. Weasley, then realized that she was the one who had finally managed to kill his aunt Bella. While she was so warm and friendly, she was clearly a powerful witch. He made a mental note to never end up on her bad side.

Mr. Weasley had begun slicing up the roast as soon as it landed gently on the table and bowls of roasted potatoes, turnips, and carrots were being passed around. After getting decent sized portions of everything on his plate, Draco very carefully took a bite of the roast. He was amazed, it was better than anything the house elves at Hogwarts or Malfoy Manor had ever managed to make. Swallowing, he glanced up the table and said, "This is delicious Mrs. Weasley."

She turned pink and started smiling, while everyone else at the table laughed as much as they could with full mouths.

************

Everyone finished dinner in relative silence: no one was trying to be rude, but the food was so good they just kept eating till they were all full. As everyone finished, their plate would fly off the table and into the sink, where a sponge would jump up and to clean it off. After everyone was finished, Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at the remaining dishes: the food vanished from sight and then _those_ dishes flew into the sink. Draco followed the procession of people back to the parlor, wondering what would happen next. Everyone had returned to their original seats and the wireless had been turned on. Draco gingerly sat back on the spindly chair, hoping that he hadn't eaten so much at dinner that it would collapse under him. When he realized that wasn't the case, he turned his attention to what the wireless was saying.

"AAAANNND MCCORMACK BLOCKS WEATHERBY'S ATTEMPT!"

With all that had been going on for the past year, Draco had completely forgotten that Quidditch was still going on. "What game is this?" he whispered, leaning towards George.

"Chudley Cannons vs. Pride of Portree," George whispered back. "You a Cannons fan?"

"No, I usually follow the Falcons. Can't say that I've had much of a chance recently…"

"Oh, not to worry, Gin's a Harpies fan, for whatever reason. Falcons are third in the league right now, if you're curious; Harpies are in the lead right now and the Prides are just behind them. Gin won't let us forget that, so you might now want to mention it." George leaned back in his seat smirking.

Draco leaned back in his seat and felt himself relaxing for the first time in a long while. While he probably would have never chosen to listen to _this_ particular game, as anyone with half a brain knew that the Prides would win, it was still very comforting to sit back lazily in his chair, shut his eyes, and imagined the game being played out on the pitch. The Weasley's weren't really talking to each other, but rather shouting at the wireless as if the players would be able to hear them. Well, most of the Weasley's at any rate; Mrs. Weasley was knitting something maroon and lumpy and Hermione had her head buried in a book. He had nearly drifted off to sleep, but was awakened when he felt George roughly jostling his shoulder.

"Do you want some dessert dear? That there is treacle tart, those are jam tarts, and those are custard creams."

Draco eyed the plate warily. He didn't care for treacle tart and the custard creams looked suspiciously like Canary Creams. He carefully selected two jam tarts and passed the tray onto George, who took a custard cream and treacle tart before passing it on. He breathed a tiny sigh of relief and bit into a jam tart. Different flavors swirled around his tongue: one moment it was grape jam, the next it was blackberry, then raspberry… He leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly as he took another bite.

About a minute after Draco had finished his first jam tart and was longingly contemplating the second, he started noticing odd looks being thrown his way.

Ginny began gasping for air. "Oh Malfoy!" She doubled over, tears of mirth streaming out her eyes.

"GEORGE!" shrieked Mrs. Weasley. "You do NOT test products on unsuspecting guests!"

"But Mum…" George started to argue.

"GEORGE WEASLEY!" bellowed Mrs. Weasley as everyone began shrinking into their seats. "YOU FIX HIM RIGHT NOW OR I'LL CURSE YOU INTO NEXT WEEK!"

Draco cleared his throat. "Erm, what exactly is the matter? I feel perfectly fine…"

Mrs. Weasley looked at him kindly. "Draco dear," she began, "the bathroom is on the second floor, third door on your left. I'll have found a way to set you to rights by the time you return." After she finished speaking to him, she turned back to the gentleman on his right, fixing him in a glowering stare. Draco gulped and leapt up to go to the bathroom as she directed. She was quite a formidable witch.

************

Draco had laughed appreciatively after dashing into the bathroom and catching a glance of himself in the mirror. Nothing about him had really changed, only the color of his hair. It was no longer fine, white-blond locks, but thick Weasley-red curls. While he would never have purposefully changed the color of his hair, he certainly could appreciate George's joke: he really hadn't been joking about that at the funeral. Giving himself a second glance in the mirror, he determined that he, unlike many unfortunate others who tried, could actually pull off red hair if he so desired.

He had tried a simple charm to get his hair to go back to its natural, blond state, but it refused to stick. He assumed that George had assumed that would be nearly anyone's first reaction and had designed it to resist such spells. Chuckling to himself, he walked back downstairs, hoping that Mrs. Weasley had finished scolding George.

When he re-entered the parlor, he was pleased that Mrs. Weasley seemed to have finished scolding George, but her shouts seemed to have been replaced by glaring at him if he so much as blinked. Seeing Draco come in, she looked rather pointedly at George, who twisted to face him.

"Look Malfoy, er, I'm really sorry about giving you a joke sweet…" he began.

Draco laughed. "Oh, it's nothing, don't worry about it. I think it's rather brilliant actually, does it give everyone Weasley hair or is there something more to it?"

George brightened seeing his reaction. "Yes, yes, you're right. It's called a _Founders Tart_, anyone who eats it will have Fred and I's dashing hair coloring for half an hour or so."

"And the flavoring? Where the hell did that come from, if I might ask. It was incredible!"

"Oh, that." George uncharacteristically blushed. "We decided to include all of our favorite jam tart flavors. We nicked Mum's recipes for that part…"

Mrs. Weasley turned scarlet and leapt to her feet. "YOU WHAT?! HOW DARE YOU GO AROUND SELLING MY RECIPES!" Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, taking advantage of the deep breath his wife was taking in order to continue her tirade.

"Draco," was all he said, ushering him out of the parlor. Once they were in the hall and the door was shut, he smiled tentatively. "I'm really sorry about your hair, George has always been a prankster and I'm afraid it's too late to try knocking some sense into him, as much as Molly may try. This is only going to get uglier, I figure I should show you out before your eardrums are blasted to smithereens."

Draco gratefully followed the older wizard to the cloak rack. It was certainly a bit awe inspiring to see Mrs. Weasley go after one of her own brood quite like that. He turned around to face Mr. Weasley again.

"Thank you very much, sir, for allowing me to come this evening. If you ever wish to stop by my home for dinner, just give me a floo." Smiling at each other, Draco twisted on the spot, disappearing into the cool night air with a crack.


	4. Surprises

**Chapter 3 – Surprises**

Draco yawned and stretched lazily as sunlight poured onto his bed. He picked up his watch from the nightstand: it was 08:55.

"_Shit!"_ he swore, bounding over to a door on the other side of the room. Narcissa had said last night that she had something she wished to speak to him about at breakfast, which was served at 09:00. He hurriedly pulled on a pair of forest green robes, not particularly caring that they weren't the required black. Glancing in the mirror, he was profoundly grateful in his decision to cut his hair earlier since he didn't need to comb and style it before running downstairs.

He glanced at his watch again: it was 08:57. _Shit, shit, SHIT!_ He decided to run most of the way to the dining room. Once he reached the door to the ballroom, he picked up a more dignified pace and steadied his breathing. By the time he reached the dining room entrance, he was fairly certain that he looked like he had walked to the dining room at a sedate pace.

Draco was slightly surprised to see that his mother was not alone at the table; she had not informed him of any guests that were coming over. As he got closer to the table, he realized the guests were none other than Aunt Andy and her grandson Teddy. Both women were rather distracted by the baby, cooing and blowing bubbles at him while he let out shrieks of delight.

"Good morning Mother," he said calmly, kissing her cheek. "Good morning Aunt Andy," he said politely, nodding to his aunt. Despite all his years of etiquette training, he was entirely unsure of how to address an infant, so he sat down at the table. As soon as he took his seat, a variety of breakfast pastries, breakfast meats, and fruits appeared on the table. After carefully choosing a croissant, several strips of bacon, and some pineapple, he turned back to Narcissa.

"So Mother, what is it that you wished to talk to me about this morning?" he asked calmly, cutting up his pineapple.

"Oh, that," Narcissa said breezily, dismissing it vaguely with a wave of her thin hand. "Well, it's a formality really, but since you are now the master of Malfoy Manor I need you to confirm that it would be alright for Andy and Teddy to move into the East Wing with me."

Draco looked up in surprise. "Surely you have your own accommodations?" He couldn't imagine that she had _no place_ to live; after all, she had been living with her husband for several decades. Reflecting, he recalled that she would have been omitted from the Black fortune and her husband had been a Muggleborn. Maybe the house was a rundown shack like the Weasleys.

"Yes, of course I do!" she cried out indignantly. "Where else do you think I've been staying all these years? A _tent?!_"

Narcissa, appeared to sense the disastrous turn of the conversation and butted in. "Draco, it's not that she has no place to live. It's just that I've missed out on having her as a sister for so many years that she's been over here visiting so often that all she's returning home for is to sleep. She also is all by herself taking care of an infant, which I wouldn't wish on anyone, so if she were to live here, I could help her as could the house elves."

Draco pondered what she said for a few moments. It did make perfect sense and it they would hardly be hard put because of it. "Certainly then. I shall arrange to have Millie begin to set up your rooms as soon as you wish to move in."

As the two woman beamed at him before returning their attentions to the happily squealing infant, he decided this was definitely for the best. His mother would have a companion, her sister, as she hadn't in years and that would undoubtedly help lessen her grief at Lucius' untimely death. Besides, if she would be living with a blood traitor, she could certainly have no qualms about his associations with other blood traitors, namely the Weasleys. He felt that they held the key to him becoming his own new person, separate from his father.

************

Ginny Weasley sat on her bed, hugging her knees, thinking about the events of the evening. There was certainly a great deal of grief in her family following the deaths of Harry and Fred, but dinner with Malfoy that evening seemed… normal. He hadn't acted anything like the git she knew from school and he had even cut that trademark long, white-blond hair to a length that her mother was always trying to keep her brothers hair at.

Speaking of hair, there was that joke sweet of George's that he ate. It was a comfortably familiar experience that she hadn't seen in their house in over a year, before You-Know-Who was really in power. He had either really liked the joke or he was a bloody good actor, which seemed to reinforce his statement that he really did appreciate Fred and George's jokes. Her mum had actually acted like her old self, which while uncomfortable for George, made the rest of the family happy beyond words. She really didn't know what to make of him: here is was, making her family seem _normal_ for the first time in years, but at the same time he had been enemies with her family for even longer.

Ginny finally jumped up out of bed, grabbing her pillow off the bed and tossing it at the wall. Really, what on earth was she supposed to think now? The entire world had been flipped upside down: Harry was supposed to be the boy who _lived_, why did he die? And why did Malfoy, Voldemort's supposed prodigy, have to be the one who finally succeeded in killing Voldemort and made her family normal?

Frustrated, she decided the only way to really sort out all of her thoughts was to go practice Quidditch, but it was too late to do that now so it would have to wait until tomorrow. Sighing loudly, she crossed her small room and picked up her pillow. On the bright side, at least it seemed that her abuse towards her pillow had fluffed it up. Changing into a nightgown she curled up in her bed, flicking her wand at the lights. As the darkness claimed the room, she drifted off into a fitful sleep.

************

Ginny woke up the next morning to bright sunshine. Squinting at the old fashioned looking clock on the wall opposite her bed, she saw that it was 08:45. After stretching and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she jumped out of bed and walked over to her wardrobe to determine what she was going to wear that day. She finally decided on a pair of blue jeans and a bright yellow tank top.

After she finished dressing and pulling her hair into a sensible ponytail, she pulled out her wand holster. She sighed, remembering when she made it almost a year ago. It was right after Mad Eye Moody had died and to overcome her grief, she recalled that he had said to never put your wand in your back pocket, so she made the holster to ensure she never had to put her wand in her back pocket. It certainly didn't look very impressive: it was made out of scraps of old, cream fabric and she had painstakingly embroidered flowers on the holster itself. Still, it served its purpose so she strapped it on and placed her wand inside before bounding down the stairs for breakfast.

The kitchen was not nearly as busy as it had been in past mornings. Bill and Fleur had moved to Shell Cottage, Charlie was living at the dragon reserve in Romania, George was living in his flat above Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, leaving just herself, Ron, and Percy remaining at home with their parents. Her father and Percy had probably left to go to the Ministry for work already and Ron probably wouldn't be up for several more hours.

Mrs. Weasley looked up from her newspaper and coffee when Ginny walked in the room and got up to embrace her in her usual bone crushing hug. "Good morning Ginny dear," she breathed into her hair. "Now what do you want for breakfast?"

Ginny tried to stifle a laugh. Her mother was still trying to stuff all her children full of her excellent cooking without actually teaching them how to cook. She imagined it was her mother's sneaky way of trying to trap all her children into coming to visit frequently for meals. "No Mum, I'm just going to make up some eggs and toast for myself this morning." She squished her mother back, hoping she would release her soon.

Molly looked at her dubiously. "Well, if that's what you wish dear." She didn't have much faith in her daughters cooking skills, and while Ginny had to admit that her cooking skills were no were near as good as her mother's they were certainly passable. She prodded the stove and oven with her wand, placing two slices of bread in the oven and cracking two eggs into a pan on the stove. After they had finished cooking, she slid them onto a plate and joined her mother at the table.

After Ginny had finished shoveling down her breakfast, Molly pointed her wand at the dishes, which then flew into the sink and a sponge came up and started washing them. She pecked a kiss on her mother's cheek and then ran outside to the broom shed to retrieve her broomstick. She looked longingly at Ron's Cleansweep and grabbed Charlie's old Shooting Star and a Quaffle and ran out into the field.

It felt so good to be free in the air all by herself, the wind whipping at her face and hair. She closed her eyes and did a lazy lap around the field, grateful for the carefree abandon she hadn't felt in weeks. Opening her eyes she began to viciously toss the crimson Quaffle through the branches of nearby tree that her brothers had long since forced to grow into makeshift hoops. Continuing for hours and hours, she finally stopped when she was too exhausted to make the Quaffle through the hoops. She pulled out her wand to send the Quaffle flying back into the broom shed then took off as fast as she could to the rickety old tree house nearby. Once she was safely inside, she curled up in a ball and began to sob her heart out.

************

Draco silently finished breakfast listening to his mother and aunt discuss their plans excitedly. From what he gathered, his mother would be taking care of the baby today while her sister went back to her house and packed all the belongs she wished to bring along with her. With the help of Millie Draco suspected that she would be completely moved in, if not quite settled in, by dinner.

After taking a walk out in his mother's perfectly manicured gardens, Draco sighed heavily. His mind was numb and couldn't process anything. He had never felt like this in his life; he had always felt _something_, even if it was anger, joy, despair, hopelessness… None of them fit right now. He wondered for a moment if a Dementor had snuck down on him somewhere and given him a Kiss, but he doubted that since he had at least felt something at the funerals he had been attending lately. Finding a sun warmed stone bench, he stretched out and took a nap.

************

After Ginny had cried until she had no more tears left, she remained curled up on the floor of the tree house. She had so many conflicting feelings still: upset and hurt of all the people she knew that were dead and elation that the cause of all her troubles was gone forever. Remus, Tonks, Fred, Harry… all gone. Remus and Tonks had just had a little boy, a most adorable little baby, orphaned. He would never know his parents and wouldn't even have his godfather to lean upon, since he was dead as well. Fred and George had always been her favorite brothers, teaching her how to defend herself from anything her older brothers, including them, would dish out to her. They had finally had their dream come true and opened a hugely successful joke shop. Now George was missing his half and was far from his usual rambunctious self and wasn't pulling his daily pranks on the family. He had gone to a special effort to pull one on Malfoy when he came to dinner last night, but that was the very first prank he'd pulled since Fred's death.

Harry… oh Harry! He had broken up with her nearly a year ago now, saying that it was more important to keep her safe by not seeing each other since Voldemort would undoubtedly hurt her in some way to get at him. While she understood his concern and kept her annoyance of everyone trying to protect her under wraps, she had nevertheless kept a torch still burning for him for whenever he returned victorious. She had thought that it was impossible that he could _not_ return victorious: he was the bloody boy-who-lived after all! Now she would not see him again until she passed on.

She sat up, scooting over to the far corner of the tree house and hugged her knees. After Moody had died, she made her wand holster to remember him by. She had poured her heart and tears into its creation and when she had finished she was left with an acceptance of his passing and had a daily memento to remember him by. Surely she could do something similar again!

Somberly, she thought of Teddy, Remus and Tonks son. The best way to go about remembering them was to make sure their son was looked after and well. She was certain that Mrs. Tonks was more than capable of caring for him, but maybe she could help out. If she dedicated a day of her week to take care of him, that would leave Mrs. Tonks free to go do her shopping all by herself or otherwise have a baby-free day. During the school year she could send him monthly parcels of small things he might need or want. Being a devoted auntie to Teddy would certainly be a good way to commemorate Remus and Tonks's memories.

Fred… surely something regarding jokes or the joke shop would be best to remember him by. He would always be remembered in the family: everyone would make a concerted effort to make sure his memory stayed alive. Perhaps she could come up with a new joke for the shop or volunteer there another day of the week. At least leaving some of his jokes around the house would keep him memory alive. Maybe… just maybe… she could modify the appearance of some of their jokes and plant them around George's flat. This thought brought a glimmer of an evil smirk to her face and she determined that modifying some of the twins jokes and leaving them sitting around would be the best way to keep Fred well and alive in everyone's memories.

Now for Harry. She sobered at this thought; just how was she supposed to go about this for Harry? He had always been brash, kind, incredible at Quidditch, excellent at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and rather humble of his role in the world. She was nearly as good as him when it came to Quidditch and Defense Against the Dark Arts… there it was! Now with Voldemort dead, Hogwarts would be quite safe next year. She could petition to have Dumbledore's Army become an official club that practiced defense, naming him as the founder. Now his name would not only live down in history as the only person to have survived the Killing Curse, but founding a school club. She determined to start beginning the paperwork for that the very next day.

Ginny stood up, scrubbing her face. She glanced around the tree house, smiling slightly at the memories she had of discussing jokes with Fred and George up here when they were younger. She took out her wand and transfigured one wall into a giant mirror. After casting a charm to remove the last traces of tears from her face, she cast a charm on her hair to remove several leaves that had worked their way in and recaptured any errant hairs back into the ponytail. Tapping the mirror with her wand again, it transformed back into the old, wooden wall of the tree house. Grabbing her broom, she set off back to the broom shed and walked into the Burrow.

When she walked into the kitchen, her heart jumped into her throat again. Molly was sitting at the kitchen table clutching a very official looking letter and sobbing. Ginny ran over to her and tried to comfort her.

"Mum! What's wrong?" Ginny demanded. This looked bad: Ron had just started Auror training, which was a rather risky business. She was desperately hoping that nothing had happened.

Molly gulped and let out a shaky breath. After a quick glance towards her daughters face she let out a strangled laugh. "Oh, no, everyone's fine." She took a few deep breaths trying to compose herself. "This – this is H-h-harry's will. He's left us _everything_!" Fresh sobs escaped her lips and she clutched Ginny in a tight hug.

"E-e-everything?" squeaked Ginny. She was shocked: she knew Harry's parents had left him a good bit of gold and Sirius had left him even more. On top of that he had a huge house in London. It was a bit rundown, but still, it was _huge_!

"Yes, _everything_!" Molly sobbed. "He's – w-was such a sweet boy…"

Ginny held her mother, rocking her gently as her mind tried to process this bit of information. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud cracking noise outside and she was relieved to see her father come in.

"Hello Molly!" he called cheerfully as he walked in the door. After seeing the two women at the table his face blanched. "What's wrong? Who is it this time? _Tell me_!!"

"Oh my, Arthur!" Molly pulled herself away from her daughter and fell into her husband's arms, sobbing even harder. He looked at Ginny questioningly.

"Er – Dad - Harry's will's been looked at," she said slowly. "Evidently he's left us everything he had."

"What?!" exclaimed Arthur. "Hand me that letter, will you?"

Ginny mutely crossed the room back to the table and handed her father the thick piece of parchment. "Well, I-I'll be damned," Arthur stuttered hoarsely. "Look at this Molly! We're rich!"

"I know!" sobbed Molly. "It's – it's just the cir-circumstances… I never wanted this at Harry's expense." She clung to her husband, getting the front of his robes quite damp.

"No one did," her husband attempted to say soothingly, but the effect was ruined with his cracking voice. "But think of Harry, he's out there somewhere jumping for joy because he could finally help us how he wanted." He ushered her over to the table and Ginny jumped up to get tea ready. Moments later, she had a great, steaming mug of tea sitting in front of her mother with a generous measure of Firewhiskey in it. Molly began gulping the tea and seemed to calm down after a few minutes.

"Oh, Arthur," she sighed. "You know I would have never minded getting some extra gold, but I would give all the gold in Gringotts to have everyone back again." Her eyes began to have a faraway look in them and Ginny suspected this was no longer just about Harry, but rather everyone who had died at Voldemort's command.

Seeing her mother relatively calm again, Ginny reached over and squeezed her father's shoulder, ready to head back upstairs to her room. She stopped when he put his hand over hers and looked at her. The look in his eyes made her stop in her tracks: it was one of profound weariness from fighting and surviving two wars with Voldemort and losing two sons and many friends in recent days. His face blurred before her eyes and she ran upstairs to her room before her parents could see her tears.


	5. Outline

I've decided (as you may have noticed) to abandon this story. It was my first attempt at fanfiction and I think I failed in developing a good plot pretty miserably. I can remember just how excited I was when I first developed this plot and then once I got it all written out I decided that it was pretty awful (it's far too sweet and OOC) and I couldn't bring myself to come back to it. I've been trying to retrieve this outline from my (failing) harddrive for several months now and have finally succeeded. I hope it brings closure (in the off chance you needed any).

Thank you for reading!

* * *

**Outline for **_**What Could Have Been**_

**Prologue – **Goes over major changes in canon that are vitally important to the story

**Chapter 1 **– _**Meetings - **_ Draco meets the Weasleys and his estranged aunt, Andromeda Tonks. Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks are reintroduced.

**Chapter 2** – _**Dinner -**_ Draco goes to have dinner with the Weasleys; a tentative friendship of sorts begins.

**Chapter 3** – _**Surprises -**_ Narcissa informs Draco that Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin will be moving in with them. Ginny resolves how to honor her fallen friends, and the Weasleys discover that Harry has left them all that he had.

**Chapter 4 – **_**Friendship -**_The Weasleys come to dinner at Malfoy Manor and discover that Andromeda Tonks moved in the previous day.

**Chapter 5 – **_**Identity - **_After donating to St. Mungo's, Draco establishes a schedule to visit with some of the permanent residents.

**Chapter 6 – **_**Resolutions -**_Ginny returns to Hogwarts to finish her final year. She obtains permission from Professor McGonagall to establish Dumbledore's Army as an official school club.

**Chapter 7 – **_**Renovations -**_The Weasleys begin renovating 12 Grimmauld Place with the help of Draco, Narcissa, and Andromeda.

**Chapter 8 – **_**Christmas -**_The Weasleys and the Malfoys celebrate Christmas together in 12 Grimmauld Place. First real Draco/Ginny interaction.

**Chapter 9 – **_**Epistles -**_Ginny and Draco become pen-pals; covers from the end of Christmas holidays to just before Ginny's graduation.

**Chapter 10 – **_**Graduation -**_Ginny's graduation, Draco asks her out on a date after her family stops smothering her.

**Chapter 11 – **_**First Date -**_Ginny and Draco's date. Encounters with some angry brothers.

**Chapter 12 – **_**One Year -**_Ginny and Draco celebrate their first anniversary of dating. Discusses Ginny's career as a professional Chaser.

**Chapter 13 – **_**Proposal -**_Draco proposes to Ginny. She accepts.

**Chapter 14 – **_**Consequences -**_Families discover the impending marriage. Molly and Narcissa get caught up in wedding planning while Draco is facing the wrath of Ginny's brothers.

**Chapter 15 – **_**Marriage -**_Ginny and Draco get married, then go on their honeymoon.

**The End**


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